The Holy Spirit
Chapter 6
“This is that” (Acts 2:16).
We need not stay to prove the personality of the Holy Spirit. If it were in question, a decisive answer would be afforded by the wording of the circular letter sent from the first church council to the daughter churches, which were awaiting guidance. The Epistle begins with these significant words: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us.” The obvious interpretation of such an inscription is the equal personality of the Holy Spirit with that of the assembled leaders of the church. He came to act as the executor of the Godhead, the conservator of the truth, the Lord and giver of life. The Day of Pentecost has been described as, in a sense, His birth-day – dies natalis. His mission was to constitute the Church, as the Body of Christ, to rule and guide it, to add to it those that were being saved, and to reveal to them things which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, but which are made known to the Spirit-led.
I have sometimes wondered whether the good Barnabas may not have crossed from his estate in the neighboring isle of Cyprus, to spend a few days with his sister whose house had, not improbably, been the scene of the Last Supper, held in one of its upper rooms. His sister, Mary, at the dawn of the Day of Pentecost, would be early away from the home to the gathering of the disciples. Her brother and his nephew Mark might have been taking their early meal together, at which Rhoda was serving them, when suddenly a startling sound burst on their ears. Hastening from the house they ran out into the street, supposing that a terrific whirlwind had swept down upon the city. But to their surprise not a single leaf was quivering, not a tree was swaying. The sound had been that of a violent blast of wind; but clearly this was not the explanation. We may, therefore, imagine the two men joining with the crowds, as they streamed up the temple-steps under the impression that the mysterious sound was in some way associated with a divine epiphany. On reaching the temple court they found it crowded with a vast assemblage of at least three thousand people, Jews and proselytes, residents in Jerusalem, and visitors gathered from every quarter of the Empire. Here and there were little groups, each eagerly listening to a discourse in their own language, emanating from lips that seemed touched with a coal of fire. Finally, however, these smaller circles became merged in one great audience, awaiting an authoritative explanation from the leader of the inner group, whose faces were illumined by a light that never shone on sea or shore.
May we not suppose that Barnabas would seek an explanation of this astonishing scene from a bystander, who might answer in some such words as these: “Clearly you are a stranger in the city, or you would not need to ask that question. This scene is closely related with the history of a wonderful movement, which for the last three years has engrossed the attention of the entire country. Of this movement one known as Jesus of Nazareth has been the central figure. The eminent purity of His character was combined with an extraordinary wealth of miraculous power, and He was in the center of attention of the people, especially in the northern districts of this country. Finally, He excited the jealousy of the priestly order, who seven weeks ago, got the Roman authorities to crucify Him. But the extraordinary fact is that, to many of us, He has given certain evidence that He arose from His grave, and is still ministering to the needs of men. He promised that He would take steps to enable us to carry on the work which He commenced, but if you will listen to yonder speaker, you will learn all the facts at first-hand.”
Here John Mark might break in and further explain to his uncle what he had heard from his mother of Peter’s past history, and his close association with Jesus of Nazareth.
After dismissing the absurd charge of drunkenness, since the day was still young, the speaker commenced his main address by saying: “This is that.”
What Was “This”?
For ten days the one hundred and twenty loyal souls had been awaiting the gift of spiritual power which their Lord had promised. Each day as it passed witnessed the same absorbed expectancy. “Not many days,” the Lord had said, and therefore any day might be the one on which His gift might be poured forth. For the world’s sake, and for their own they had continued to claim the fulfillment of the promise and to rid themselves of every conceivable obstacle to its reception. It would appear that on this special day, when, in the temple, the priest presented the first loaves of the new harvest to the Almighty, they had risen from their knees, and were sitting in an expectant attitude. Then suddenly, they saw tongue-like flames distributing themselves, one resting on the head of each, and they were all similarly anointed and filled with the Holy Spirit. The same experience befell them as had befallen their Divine Leader when He was baptized. That had been His Pentecost, as this became their Baptism. Each looked at the rest, admiring their halos of fire, not daring to suppose that he or she was also similarly blessed. From the beginning the Holy Spirit had brooded over the chaos of the elements and the ordering of human society; but, now, for the first time, as we have seen, He created the nucleus of the Body of Christ, and laid the foundations of the one holy mystical Church. This was according to Christ’s word: “I will build my Church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.”
“That”
“That” on the other hand, was the prediction of the Prophet Joel, who foretold that the hour would come when men-servants and maid-servants would break forth into prophecy; and that amid the convulsions of nature and the fall of empires, vast numbers would call on the name of the Lord and crowd through the gates of salvation. Peter, in the scene before him, perceived and declared the actual fulfillment of that ancient prophecy.
If Barnabas were there that day, he must have been deeply moved. The name, “Son of consolation,” by which he was afterwards known, suggests his highly-strung and tender nature; and he must have been very sensitive to the warm waters of love, which seemed to be let loose over that spell-bound assembly. He had never experienced the like of it before. Here was that comfort in Christ, that fellowship of the Spirit, those tender mercies and compassions, of which he was so often to hear from the lips of his old comrade, Paul, in the university of Tarsus, as in after years, they travelled together in the power of the same Spirit. His descent on the infant church was being accomplished before his eyes.
Thus was fulfilled the Saviour’s promise that they should receive power − the power of the Holy Spirit coming upon them.
“This” Is Not “That”
But we sorrowfully confess today that “This” is not That.” The professing Church, as we know it, is far removed from her Pentecostal prototype. “That” was united; “This” is divided into an infinite number of sects. “That” was full of triumphant joy; whilst “This” gets choirs and choristers to sing for her. “That” made little of material wealth; “This” pays court to it. “That” was characterized by simplicity of method, as each member said to neighbor and brother, “Know the Lord”; whilst “This” substitutes paid agents to perform the work of evangelization and soul-winning. “That,” was a commonwealth of mutual helpfulness; in “This,” class distinctions are permitted and observed. No greater contrast between “That” and “This” could be adduced than between the brief sentences which describe the Church’s infancy, when the Lord added to her daily those who were being saved, and the endeavor of modern Christian communities to attract audiences by an ornate ritual, or popular orations on the topics of the day, or adventitious attractions which savor of the dancing academy or the club. When at Colombo, I read an extract from a Buddhist paper in which a correspondent cited such things as “the ruses” adopted in a Christian country to induce people to attend church. There are vast numbers of significant exceptions, where buildings are crowded and the Gospel is still proved to be the power of God to salvation; but speaking generally, with fact being that the church is declining before us, we are sorrowfully compelled to confess that “This is not That.”
“This” Might Be “That”
The apostle did not say that Joel’s prophecy was fulfilled. He clearly realized that the scene before him was only the first installment towards its fulfillment. The gift of the Holy Spirit has never been withdrawn; and indeed miracles are happening today in the hearts of sinners, which are as wonderful as anything that has ever taken place in the history of the Church. The river of God flows on in its glorious fulness, though the professing Church has removed from its banks, and is creating a new settlement on the edge of a desert. How disastrous is this experiment. It is very bitter to state the matter thus; very bitter to draw a distinction between the professing-church and the hidden-church; very bitter to suggest that any amongst us are forsaking the fountain of living waters for cisterns that can hold none. Yet an instant alteration might be effected, if only the leaders of the churches, both ministers and laymen, and indeed the membership as a whole, would turn once more to those stores of blessing, which await us in “the residue of the spirit.”
The following notable instances encourage the faith that God’s arm is not shortened that He cannot save, nor His ear heavy that He cannot hear.
One Saturday afternoon, Christmas Evans, the famous Welsh preacher, was ascending Cader Idris on his way to a preaching engagement on the following day. He records that he was suddenly “convicted of a cold heart,” and as the road was lonely he tethered his horse, went some distance apart, and cast himself before God in an agony of self-despair. He confessed his own sins, and those of the churches under his care. The fountains of the deeps within were broken up. His tears came thick and fast, followed by a baptism of love and power, which affected the whole of his subsequent ministry and led to a revival of religion throughout the principality.
The Rev. C. M. Birrell of Liverpool, who was a fellow student with Murray McCheyne, the Bonars, and W. C. Burns, once told me of a conversation which, when a young man, had passed between himself and the mother of W. C. Burns, in which she gave him the key to the great revival which touched the whole of Scotland. When she went to her son’s room in the early morning to call him to his breakfast, she found him lying on the floor where he had been all night, detained by the Spirit of God, and oblivious to the flight of time. “Mother,” he said, “God has given me Kilsyth today.” Yes, and not only Kilsyth, with one hundred saved that afternoon, but Scotland and then Inland China, where he and Hudson Taylor together labored for the Lord.
Sitting with D. L. Moody in the porch of his home in Northfield one Sunday morning, he gave me the following experience. Shortly after his conversion, he took the big Market Hall in Chicago and gathered a vast crowd of hearers for his Sunday evening service, but with comparatively small results. A group of Christian women used to occupy the front seats, and as he descended from the platform they would say something to this effect: “Very good, Mr. Moody, very good; but there is something better, and we are praying for you.” He often questioned what they referred to. Wasn’t the hall crowded? Were there not signs of God’s blessing in renovated lives? But, one summer afternoon, as he was passing along Fifth Avenue, New York, he felt that he must get alone with God. Going to the house of a friend, he asked for the use of a room that he might be alone. He put aside the offers of hospitality and refreshment, and locked the door against interruption. In that sacred hour, he yielded his whole being afresh to Christ, and received the baptism of power. On the following Sunday evenings, the Spirit of God moved his audiences with such mighty power that the women who had prayed for him, with tears and smiles, said: “Ah, Mr. Moody, you have got it now.” That was the beginning of a ministry in the power of the Holy Spirit, which was destined to affect the world.
But, perhaps, the outstanding incident of all is that recorded of John Wesley on his return from his residence in America, which had not been marked by any outstanding features. He met Peter Bohler, a Moravian, at a religious gathering in Aldersgate Street, London, and afterwards accompanied him to Herrnhut, where, on the invitation of Count Zinzendorf, the consecrated and missionary-hearted Moravian Church had found its home. It was there that he entered on the experience of Pentecost, and on his return to London, invited the Aldersgate group to meet him one afternoon, at the Moravian Church in Fetter Lane. At that memorable meeting, in addition to himself, were his brother Charles, Whitefield, and others whose names were destined to shine as stars. After they had continued for two hours in fellowship and prayer, they became conscious of the presence of the Holy Spirit, and fell on their faces in reverent worship, after which they arose and sang the Te Deum. On the next morning, Whitefield took the early coach to Bristol, and the great revival, the celestial fire of which saved Britain from the false fire of the French Revolution, broke out.
“This” Shall Be “That”
Why should not every minister and Christian worker who reads these lines arrange to spend one day at least alone with God in quiet self-examination? Are we experimentally possessed of the Pentecostal enduement? Are we willing to pay the price of it? Are we willing, if needs be, to surrender reputation, position, and even the favor of our immediate clientele, in order that the channel bed may be cleared for the river of God? There is a sense in which we have to lay at the feet of our Lord, “life’s glory dead,” before we claim “life that shall endless be.” But, be it remembered, that, whatever we surrender on the physical or natural – “the soulish-level” – will be given back with enhanced power and beauty on the spiritual. The man who fell down the well, and in falling caught the rope, held on to the end of it till his strength gave out, and then found that he had only six inches more to drop so as to reach the bottom, unhurt. How often we dread letting go. But it is only when we have let go that we find peace and power.
Let us then take the following steps, suggested by Andrew Murray:
If there is any difficulty in making a full surrender (see step 4 above), I suggest that if you are not willing to give up the key of some special door, which you have hitherto kept closed against Christ, that you should tell Him that you are willing to be made willing, and cast on Him the responsibility of dealing with that special difficulty. When dealing with your own case or the case of others, the one matter that claims imperative and primary consideration is the will. When that takes Christ’s side, you may trust Him to deal with every hindrance or sin; and He will.
As to steps, I trust that I may not be charged with egotism, if I reprint part of a tract by Dr. Chapman: “Two or three years ago Mr. Moody invited me to breakfast at his home in Northfield. I got to the house before the breakfast hour, and met Dr. Meyer beneath a great tree in front of the house. I said to him, ‘What is the matter with me? So many times I seem half empty, and so many times utterly powerless; what is the matter?’ He put his hand on my shoulder, and said: ‘Have you ever tried to breathe out three times without breathing in once?’ I wondered if he was referring to some new breathing exercise, so I said, ‘I do not think I have,’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘try it.’ So I breathed out once, and then I had to breathe in again. Then he said: ‘You must always breathe in before you can breathe out, and your breathing out must always be in proportion to your breathing in.’ Then he said: ‘Good morning,’ and I went on into Mr. Moody’s house. But I had had my lesson, and know that I had been trying to breathe out more than I had breathed in.”
There must be a constant receiving of the Spirit of Pentecost, in order to do the Lord’s work.